We, The Glorious Dead
by SilentElla
Summary: Daryl and Nola unexpectedly find themselves together as they try to understand and survive a new epidemic that is sweeping through Georgia, and presumably the world. Rated M for language, violence, and (eventual) sexuality.
1. Chapter 1 - Coffee

Nola saw Daryl park his beaten-up Ford pick-up truck outside the diner. She knew he'd probably take a seat on a stool, and then wait for her to bring his coffee as usual. Some of the waitresses at the diner didn't much care for Daryl, but that was probably because most of the time his methed-out brother would eventually show up to join him.

Daralee, the other waitress on shift, sidled up to Nola and nudged her. "Ding-dong, sweet-pea, looks like your favourite client 's here."

Nola rolled her eyes. Daralee was just a few months away from a well-deserved retirement and she was making the most of her last days here. Daralee saw the eyes Daryl made at Nola. Nola was a sweet girl, but she wasn't the most perceptive when it came to that sort of thing. Despite his family's reputation, Daralee liked Daryl and she wasn't intimidated by him like a lot of other people in the town. She saw through his gruff exterior. Her favourite game was trying to making him blush.

Daryl eased onto his usual stool at the diner. He spotted Nola finishing up at another table. She was the reason he came to this diner. He'd never had a conversation with her beyond placing his order; small talk wasn't his specialty. There was something about Nola that he couldn't get out of his head. Sure she was cute – he always saw the guys in here stare at her as she walked away – but it was her personality that captivated him. She remembered his name and the way he liked his coffee. When she asked how his day was, it was like she really cared about the answer.

Daryl was lost in his thoughts, staring blankly at the muted television. There was a news reporter standing in front of a hospital. They were reporting on some kind of new form of rabies. Rabid animals were easy enough to deal with – no reason this should be more difficult to deal with in people. He never paid much attention to the news. It was usually just the same story, but different people and different places.

Daryl's attention was abruptly snapped back to the present by Daralee's gravely voice. "Well good evenin' darlin', what can I get ya?"

"Just take a coffee," Daryl mumbled.

Daralee smiled. "Well now, I could get ya' that coffee, but then again you didn't say 'please'. You should know that I always insist on being treated like the fine southern lady that I know I am. I think I'm gonna be lettin' Nola get you that coffee."

She winked at Daryl as she bustled off and into the kitchen. Even though he didn't show it, Daryl definitely appreciated Daralee's sense of humour.

Nola had just finished settling the bill with her last table. She had seen Daralee talking to Daryl, but for whatever reason it didn't look like she had taken his order. Nola walked behind the counter stopping at the coffee station to pour Daryl a cup. She absent mindedly splashed a touch of milk in before sliding it in front of Daryl. The reports on the television were starting to worry her.

"Anything else I can get you today, Daryl?"

"Naw, thanks. Headin' home soon."

"You must love our coffee to just stop by for a cup."

"Best coffee in all Georgia," Daryl could hardly keep from sounding sarcastic as he said that. It was probably some of the _worst_ coffee in the whole United States.

"You been listenin' to the news? I wonder if there have been any of those rabies cases near us. It's startin' to sound pretty serious. They're talkin' about startin' up with the martial law – you know, curfews 'n stuff."

Daryl just shook his head. Nola hadn't expected much of an answer from Daryl – she rarely got more than a couple of words out of him. She leaned against the counter as Daryl sipped his coffee, trying to catch a little more of the news report.

Daralee re-appeared with a huge piece of key-lime pie. Daralee plunked it down in front of Daryl. "Here you go sug', this one's on the house. You just keep comin' back here – least 'till I'm retired. After that, I don't give a shit what you do." She turned to Nola, hands on her hips, and she sighed with faked exasperation, "Warm up the man's coffee Nola – you ain't _never_ gonna find a husband if ya' don't even know to serve pie with _hot_ coffee."

Nola smiled, "Are you sure you're not ready to retire today?"

Daralee just swatted at Nola's retreating behind with the rag she kept in her apron. "Girl, you're lucky it's the end of my shift, an' I need to be gettin' to my beauty sleep, otherwise I'd make you regret those words!"

Daralee removed her serving apron and smoothed her hand over her hair. She retrieved her purse from under the counter, and headed for the door. "You're alright to close up, Nola?"

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem unless the Lone Ranger over here starts giving me trouble," Nola said nodding towards Daryl, the only customer left in the restaurant.

Daralee nodded to herself. _'My work here is done,'_ she thought. It was pitch black outside as she headed to her car that was parked right outside the door. She saw a shadowy figure on the other side of the parking lot. They were heading for the diner – there was an odd way about them. They staggered when they walked. But Daralee thought nothing of it; it wasn't exactly unusual to see a drunk in these parts.

"We're all closed up here. You might have some luck about ten minutes down the road closer to town," she called out helpfully. The shadowy figure continued to shuffle toward her. "Look here, I got pepper spray on my key chain, and I ain't gonna hesitate to use it!" Daralee said, aiming her pepper at the approaching figure. The figure was almost on top of her now, reaching for her with its arms. Daralee screamed and released her pepper spray at the figure's face. There was no reaction on the figure's part. The figures' hands had reached Daralee's arm. Its hands were cold, and its grip was firm. Without hesitation, it dragged Daralee's arm up into its maw, tearing into her flesh with its teeth.

Daryl and Nola heard Daralee's blood-curdling scream. Daryl was closest to the door, so he got there first. Daralee was shrieking, and kicking a man who seemed to be gnawing on her arm. Daryl grabbed on to the man's shirt with both hands, tearing him off Daralee and slamming him to the ground. The man seemed unfazed, quickly pushing himself back up and lunging toward Daryl, Daralee's blood still fresh on his lips. Daryl caught the man by the collar of his shirt with one hand and slammed his fist into the man's stomach. Other than a wheeze of air that escaped, the man seemed completely unaffected, and continued snapping his jaws hungrily at Daryl. Daryl kept on punching the man, to almost no effect. "What the _Hell_?" Daryl huffed. Nearly exhausted, Daryl slammed the man on the ground and cracked his head on the cement of the parking space. Finally, the man lay still.

Daryl turned to see Nola crouched over an unconscious Daralee. Nola was wrapping a towel around Daralee's wound.

"What do we do? I tried calling 911, but there was no answer!" Nola said tearfully.

"By the time they send someone, it'll be faster if I just drive. Move over," Daryl said as he crouched down, picking up Daralee's limp body.

With a few strides, he had reached his truck. His hands full he called out to Nola, "Key's in my right pocket."

She found the keys easily and fumbled to open the door. As Daryl gently slid Daralee into the truck, letting her body lean against the passenger said door, Nola questioned, "What-what about him?", indicating the unconscious man.

"He ain't our problem," Daryl regretted his words when he saw the look of horror in sweet Nola's eyes. "Jus' keep tryin' 911 on your cell while we're drivin'," Daryl amended. Nola nodded silently – Daralee was her priority too. She slid into the pick-up next, wrapping her arm around Daralee and shifting her body so that Daralee's head was resting on her shoulder. The truck's engine started with a rumble. Daryl flicked the head lights on, illuminating the man on the ground. He was moving. Nola stared back at the man in confusion as Daryl pulled out of the parking lot at top speed toward town. By the time she lost him from view he had pushed himself up to standing and had begun staggering after their retreating headlights_. 'What in the world was going on? _' she thought to herself. She rested her chin on Daralee's salt and pepper hair and prayed.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I love comments/suggestions/high fives by either comment or PM. It's like little presents at the end of my day when I hear from you guys! XOXO**


	2. Chapter 2 - Lemon Cake

Daryl parked his truck outside of the emergency entrance. He deftly ran to the other side of the cab and retrieved Daralee as Nola slid out from the driver's side. With Daralee unconscious in his arms, he was surprised as an ambulance screeched to a halt, just inches away from him. The driver of the ambulance didn't acknowledge Daryl as he pushed past. Daryl was about to yell out some choice expletives, but he paused when he saw the man was clutching a wound on his side. _"What the Hell's goin' on?_" he thought to himself.

The scene at the small emergency room was chaotic. There were patients on stretchers lining the walls. One woman was shrieking at a deflated looking doctor, and a man sat silently on a chair, a wound on his leg dripping blood on to the floor. Every other chair In the waiting room was filled.

Nola led them to check-in. The receptionist looked frazzled and was whispering into her cell phone.

Impatient, Nola tapped on the glass, "Excuse me? We've got an emergency here! A man just bit my friend!"

The woman held up a pudgy finger authoritatively. Nola blinked in disbelief, speechless.

Daryl stepped forward, a dark look in his eyes, "I don't think you heard my friend here, but we're losin' a life here!"

The woman hissed a few final hurried words into her cell phone before finally turning her attention to the trio in front of her.

"Insurance card?" She asked with an irritated tone.

"I got a woman dyin' in my arms, and you're askin' me 'bout an insurance card?" Daryl bellowed.

"If she ain't got insurance, y'all gotta go to the state-funded hospital, ain't nothin' we can do for ya here."

Having lived her whole life without health insurance, Nola had prepared herself for this moment.

In a commanding tone she didn't quite recognize herself, she let the woman behind the glass know that _she_ knew her rights: "Ma'am, according to Emergency Medical Treatment Act passed by congress in November of 1986, this hospital is obliged by Federal law to provide stabilizing emergency medical care," nodding towards Daralee, "and my friend has lost a lot of blood. So unless you want me to call every news agency in the area, I suggest you do your job."

The woman behind the glass looked flabbergasted; it wasn't usual that the people in this sleepy area of the South quoted federal legislature at her.

Within minutes, a nurse's aide had wheeled out a gurney for Daralee. The towel that Nola had wrapped around the wound had slowed the bleeding, but Daralee was still unconscious and dangerously pale. As soon as Daryl had carefully deposited Daralee's limp body on the gurney, the aide started securing the restraints around her wrists and feet.

Daryl started to protest, "She just got attacked, she ain't optin' out or a danger or' –"

The attendant looked up wearily, "Look, it's house rules that anyone unconscious has to be restrained – no exceptions. They just made it a rule this morning."

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement, and turned to join Nola who was filling out Daralee's admission forms. As she handed them to the woman behind the glass, she felt the nurse's aid's hand tap her on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but you and your boyfriend should be getting' home. There's nothing you can do for your friend right now, and our waiting room is at capacity. We'll be sure to call you if there's a change in your friend's condition."

Nola was too distracted to correct the man on his use of the word _boyfriend_. Daryl heard it, and scowled, assuming the man was making a joke he didn't get.

They headed back to Daryl's truck in silence.

Shaking herself out of her daze, she addressed Daryl: "I'm so glad it was you there with us tonight. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't stopped in for that late night cup of coffee."

Daryl hid his smile by staring at the ground. He'd never been good at accepting praise, however well deserved it was. Changing the subject he said, "You shoulda' been a lawyer or somethin'. How'd you know all those dates 'n stuff? "

Nola blushed, "I uh . . . it's just something I've had to deal with before. I made up the part about it bein' in November, but the rest is true!"

Daryl jerked his head in acknowledgement. They reached his truck, still parked at the emergency entrance. "You uh . . . need a ride somewhere?" he offered.

Nola smiled, "Yeah, that would be great. I live pretty close to the diner. Is it too much out of your way?"

"Naw," Daryl lied. It _was_ most definitely out of his way. The diner was close to a thirty minute drive from where he stayed. There were other diners that were a lot closer to his place – all of them with better coffee than Nola's place.

The ride back toward the diner was silent, other than Nola's directions. Eventually, they arrived at a bungalow, with a small garden out front and a story-book white picket fence.

Noticing the lights were off, Daryl asked, "Is there anyone home for 'ya? Some weird shit's goin' on."

"No, I live alone," Nola said simply. She wasn't in the mood to get into why she lived alone.

Daryl could barely get his next question out – it wasn't usual for him, but he felt shy to ask, "What about a boyfriend? Maybe you want to give him a call so you ain't alone?"

Nola shook her head, "No boyfriend, but really, it's fine – don't worry about me!" Nola pushed the door of the truck open and slipped out.

Daryl shrugged.

As she was about to slam the door shut, a chill ran down her spine at the thought of the short walk from the truck to her front door.

"Um, actually, I know it's late, but would you want to come in for another cup of coffee?"

Daryl smiled to himself, turning his head to focus on the door handle to his truck so that Nola wouldn't see. He wasn't sure why he was smiling – there wasn't any point in getting his hopes up. The only reason they were here was because Daralee had been attacked, and the girl was probably feeling nervous. Even though he'd been happy to find out that she didn't have a boyfriend, ultimately it didn't make a difference to him. He could be the last guy on earth, and a sweet girl like Nola still wouldn't go for him.

Daryl followed Nola along the small path leading to her house. As she fumbled with her house keys, Nola apologised, "I wasn't expectin' company, so you'll have to excuse the dishes in the sink."

"S'fine," Daryl muttered, thinking of his own home. He would _never _take her there – she'd probably run screaming in the other direction.

"Let me give you a tour – and we can make sure there are no monsters hiding anywhere at the same time," Nola said in a joking tone. In truth, she had an uneasy feeling and making sure there was nothing out of the ordinary was more important than giving a tour.

The tour didn't take long. It was a small house with only one floor. As soon as she flipped on the light above her door, it was half over. She brought him through sitting room, and circled around to the kitchen, finally taking him down the only hallway to the bathroom, bedroom, and the small bedroom she'd turned into a craft room.

Nola showed Daryl the craft room and bedroom uneventfully, taking time to fling open the closets and peek behind the doors. With a grand final gesture, she finished the tour with the bathroom.

"So this concludes the tour, any questions?" She said, flinging her hand out and knocking a mop that had been leaning against the bathroom wall so that it clattered to the floor. Nola shrieked, and in her hurry to back out of the bathroom, she tripped over her feet, falling into Daryl's muscled chest.

Daryl caught her easily by her shoulders. He chuckled at the sheepish look on Nola's face. "Naw, I think I'm good," he said as he pushed her back up to standing.

"I guess I'm kind of jumpy. This whole day just has me freaked out," Nola said.

"Mhmm," Daryl agreed.

"What about that coffee?" Nola suggested, eager to change the subject.

Daryl seated himself at the kitchen table, sitting in front of the window, staring out at the garden as Nola prepared the coffee. As the coffee was set to dripping, she let out a little "Oh, yeah," and crossed to her counter and retrieved a lemon loaf she'd made earlier, plunking it down on the table with two plates and a knife.

"Can I make you a sandwhich or anything, Daryl? It's been a long night."

Daryl wasn't listening to her – he was focusing on a figure stumbling in the direction of the small house, illuminated by the full moon. The figure had the same gait as the one who'd attacked Daralee in the parking lot.

"Stay here and keep quiet!" He ordered Nola.

Daryl quickly crossed the floor to shut off the kitchen light, and continued over to shut off the light by the front door. Daryl returned to the darkened kitchen, where Nola was standing by the kitchen staring at the figure who was now stumbling up her walkway.

"You know him?" Daryl asked in a whisper.

"I don't think so," Nola said, squinting at the figure.

The figure reached the door, but instead of knocking, they heard a sort of scratching. They both moved toward the front door, and they could hear the figure on the other side taking long, slow, rattling breaths as it scratched on the door.

Nola retreated back down the hall, cell phone pressed to her ear as she dialed 9-1-1. Earlier this evening the when she had been trying to reach someone when Daralee was attacked, the phone just rang with no answer. This time, after one ring, a voice started talking:

"_A state of emergency has been declared in Georgia due to a recent outbreak of illness. Those infected may become aggressive. Please remain calm, and stay indoors, avoiding infected individuals. If you believe that you are infected, quarantine yourself, and help will come. This is a pre-recorded message."_

Nola swallowed thickly and hung up her phone. She looked at Daryl, "I don't think we should answer the door, and I think you should stay here for tonight."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Morning After

"What do we do?" Nola asked, terrified.

Daryl peered through a crack in the curtain at the man scratching at the door. "Ain't much to do," he sighed. Without meeting Nola's eyes, Daryl questioned, "Did you want to be alone? I'm pretty sure I can sneak pas—"

"No! I would feel a whole lot better if you stayed here tonight," Nola said firmly. "Unless there is somewhere you need to be?"

"Ain't nowhere I need to be," the words came easily to Daryl, even though as he said them he thought of his brother and father sitting in the run-down trailer they shared.

"I'll set up a bed in the back room for you," Nola said, relieved she wouldn't have to spend the night alone. She'd never been good about spending time alone, which was unfortunate, given that she was often alone.

The night passed without much incident. Neither Nola nor Daryl got much sleep, even after the scratching at the door had stopped. As the light of dawn peeked through Nola's chiffon curtains, she gladly rolled out of bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes. She couldn't remember a longer night – including the torturous nights that preceded the Christmas mornings of her childhood.

Nola knocked gently on the door of her craft room. It stood half-open, but she hardly knew the man and wasn't about to barge in. "Daryl? You awake?" She heard a grunt from inside. Nola poked her head into the room to see Daryl sitting up on the daybed reading a book in the early morning light. As quickly as he saw her, he quickly tossed the book aside. "I was going to make some eggs. There's a towel set out in the bathroom for you if you want a shower." Daryl jerked his head in appreciation and muttered a barely audible, "Thanks."

Daryl watched Nola retreat to the kitchen. A hot shower would be a nice change – the water heater on his trailer had been busted for a couple of weeks, and he hadn't gotten around to (or rather, gotten the money together) to buy a new one. Daryl entered Nola's bathroom. There was potpourri in a small dish, and candles along the low windowsill above the tub. Everything matched – hand towels, face cloths, and towels for drying. Even the flowered shower curtain matched the bathmat.

When he caught a reflection of himself in the mirror, a dark cloud moved over Daryl's blue eyes. He looked so painfully out of place in Nola's perfect bathroom. With his cut off sleeves hanging out of his leather vest, his stained jeans and his messy hair, he was sure he would have confused the Hell out of anyone who walked in. He belonged in a trailer park – not in a house. He was being used. Nola would _never_ have looked at him twice if it hadn't been for what happened at the diner. She wasn't interested in him – as a friend and definitely never as something more. The décor of the bathroom made that clear. With a scowl, he wrenched open the hot water tap. He let it run until the hot water scalded his hand. He let out string of curses under his breath before adjusting the knobs and jumping into the shower.

Nola was humming to herself as she buzzed about the kitchen. She knew how Daryl liked his eggs from working at the diner. He'd only been in a couple of times for breakfast, but that was enough for her to remember. There was something about him – he wasn't conventionally good looking, and he didn't look like he had the greatest hygiene. He had a gruff exterior that was certainly difficult to penetrate. She knew he was a hunter though, and there was something irresistible about a man who didn't need to depend on anyone for anything.

The snap of her hair elastic breaking brought her back to reality. Frowning, she slid the eggs on to the plate next to some hash browns. Before absent mindedly turning stove off as she ran her free hand through her long dirty blond hair. She started down the hallway to her bathroom to get something to keep her hair up just as Daryl was coming out of the bathroom.

It was all she could do to supress a little gasp as her eyes fell on his nearly-naked body. He was had a ball of his clothing under one arm, while the other held the towel loosely around his hips. He had a few tattoos here and there, but what really caught her attention was his well-muscled physique. Nola shouldn't have been so surprised, as she'd felt how muscled he was when she'd fallen into him during her tour, but she'd never really thought about how he looked underneath his baggy clothing.

Trying to keep her eyes from appearing too wide, Nola said, "Breakfast is hot and ready when you are!" _Oh, dear Lord, did that sound like I was flirting with him?_ Nola thought to herself before she could stop the words coming out of her mouth. She heard Daryl mutter another, "Thanks," as she quickly turned and walked back towards the kitchen, her loose hair forgotten.

Nola returned to the kitchen, still rattled by the sight of Daryl. It had been a long time since she'd seen a man anywhere close to naked – _too_ long in fact. He must have a girlfriend or something – she'd had terrible luck with men. Her last relationship ended when a woman accosted her as she was leaving the diner screeching about her being a home-wrecker. It had turned out that Mitch – the guy she'd been with for almost 6 months had a wife and a 4 month old son. Nola was not about to go through _that_ again.

Nola absent-mindedly put toast into her toaster and pressed it down. Daryl seated himself at the table and unceremoniously started cramming the food into his mouth. "Coffee?" Nola questioned even as she was already pouring them two cups. "Mmf-thanks," Daryl managed to say, his mouth stuffed with the breakfast. Nola sat and started on her own plate, reaching for the toast as it popped from the toaster. She grabbed it gingerly, as she expected it to be hot, but her hand closed what was clearly still bread. Again, she pushed the toast down, waving her hand over the toaster to check for heat. She felt nothing. "I think the power's out," Nola said, as she flicked the kitchen to no response.

Daryl paused in his breakfast for a moment, "Somethin's up. What ya wanna do?"

Nola thought for a moment, "I'm going to call the Sherriff's department, see if they know what's going on." After pulling out her old yellow phone book – all her friends laughed at her for keeping it – she found the Sherriff's number and dialed it, putting her cell phone on speakerphone so Daryl could hear. Like when she had called 9-1-1 the previous night, there was nothing but a pre-recorded message playing:

"_Thank you for calling precinct 3456. Our offices are currently closed due to the temporary emergency declared by the state of Georgia. Please remain calm, and proceed to Atlanta, your nearest refugee site. Military personal will be available on-route to guide you. Have a nice day._"

"I don't have a car! Daryl, do you have room to take me to the refugee camp? Do you think I have time to pack a bag?" Nola stammered.

Normally, Daryl would have ignored the message to go to the refugee camp and just headed back to his trailer to ride out this so-called "emergency" that the local law enforcement was too pussy to deal with. Even though he resented Nola for using him – this time in a big way – something wouldn't let him refuse her request. "Get your stuff together – we'll leave in five."

Daryl remembered hearing bad things about refugee camps on the news – he didn't think what he'd heard was in the states, but he figured he'd be better off on his own than in some government-run camp. He'd make sure Nola got to the camp, and then he would be gone – he didn't need someone to look after. As an afterthought, Daryl called out to Nola, "Hey – you got any camping gear? Won't be surprised if this refugee camp ain't so well equipped if everyone's headin' there."

"I'll grab what I have," Nola answered distractedly. Daryl shrugged – she didn't look like much of the outdoor type anyways. He saw a couple of canvas bags tucked between the fridge and the counter. He pulled them out and started filling them with what remained in Nola's fridge and her cupboards. He wasn't worried – he could hunt whatever he needed to eat, but Nola would probably be able to use it.

Daryl rolled his eyes as he saw Nola lugging a massive suitcase behind her, with what was presumably a tent hung over one shoulder. Daryl held up his hand for her to stop and held his finger to his lips. After checking outside, he quietly opened the door. The man who had been scratching at the door was now slumped on Nola's porch. As soon as it saw Daryl, it lunged for him – but Daryl was faster. Without hesitation he gave it a solid kick to the head. "C'mon," Daryl nodded as he reached for Nola's oversized luggage. Nola ran for the truck and threw herself in the front seat. Daryl was slower as he lugged the massive suitcase behind him. "What the Hell ya got in here?" he huffed. Before he even closed his mouth he heard the thing from Nola's porch growl. Without thinking, Daryl swung Nola's suitcase, knocking the creature to the ground. As it scrambled to get up, Daryl threw the suitcase unceremoniously into the back of the truck as he ran to the other side to jump in. Nola was screaming as she scrambled to lock her door as the creature was clawing to get in. Daryl's truck rumbled to life and they took off, the creature stumbling after them.

Although he wasn't showing it, Daryl was rattled. Maybe this was serious. "You mind if we make a detour before headin' to Atlanta? I wanna pick up a couple things, check see if Merle and my Pa are 'round."

Although Nola just wanted to get to the refugee camp as quickly as possible, she didn't really have much of a choice at this point. "Yeah – of course."

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**Hey y'all! My apologies for not updating lately. No excuses though, right? I don't like the title I chose for this Fic, so if you want to suggest one go ahead with a PM or comment. If I choose your title, you win a prize. I'll write you into this fic as a character. As always, please leave me a comment. Your comments are little gifts to me - they all brighten my day!**


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